


Among Stars

by BelowBedlam



Series: Poetry for Interstellar Blitz [9]
Category: Mass Effect
Genre: Grief/Mourning, Heroism, Mysticism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-19
Updated: 2017-02-19
Packaged: 2018-09-25 15:53:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,895
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9827387
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BelowBedlam/pseuds/BelowBedlam
Summary: The end and aftermath, through Z and Garrus’s POVs. Not safe for feels. about 4k words.





	

_This is it, huh? Blazing glory._

 Zisys doesn’t have a death wish, not really. She is thirty-two and would have liked to see thirty-three, forty-three, hell, fifty-three if we’re dreaming big, but that’s not in the cards for her and it’s alright, was a long shot anyway; she doesn’t have a death wish but death has wished for her thrice already and three’s the charm. Three’s company. Whatever: there is absolutely no room for a fourth slip on the Grim Reaper.

 That’s funny. Grim Reaper. She stands now between life and death. Life and death: To forfeit her life, or become the harbinger of so much more death. And entire race’s worth, a race she’d fought to preserve. That Legion had died to redeem.

 “The choice is yours,” the Catalyst said. The Catalyst is a damned five-year-old haunt that’s had her chasing it in her dreams for the last three months. If this was how it was going to end, it could have at least left her sleep alone, let her dream of something nice. Now it claims her. Either way, it claims her. Passes off the weight of Life to her because its contingency plan no longer worked out. 

 Zisys can’t destroy the Reapers if it’s not just the Reapers she’s destroying, and she didn’t go through all of that trouble to save the geth. She thinks of the quarians, how Tali had said that with the geth’s help they would be able to walk without their suits on Rannoch in years instead of generations. Zisys had wanted to be there when Tali felt the sun on her skin for the first time, but she’s pretty sure now that Tali is dead. Died on her feet, died fighting, died running for the Citadel. Babygirl. Garrus too, most likely, but Zisys can feel in her chest that Tali for certain is gone.

  _I’m coming for you, babygirl._

Yeah. She and Garrus had joked about adopting a kid. They’d be shit parents to a baby, but maybe they’d do some good to some knucklehead teenager. It is a future that didn’t seem attainable even when she thought she might survive this. Now, it’s just another dream.

 Zisys moves towards her choice, ragged breath following stumbling step, half a corpse only walking to finish the job.God, her body hurts; she has broken bones, she’s bleeding from her side, her gun hand is on fire but she won’t lay her pistol down. Blood spills from her nose and slips into her mouth, hot and gritty with debris from her face. Her eyesight is kinda blurry, and there’s a ringing in her ears.  It hurts a little to breathe, it hurts more to walk, but it doesn’t take her long to hobble to where she will choose to die.

That in itself is a bit of comfort. It’s not a bullet or a bomb or an enemy that gets Zisys in the end. Not old age or sickness. She chooses her death. She takes command of it.

 Legion is in every surviving geth in the galaxy now. His will, pure and earnest and alive, will shape the quarians and the galaxy, and it will be good. God, it’s going to be so good. Zisys wishes she could live to see it, but knowing she helped will have to suffice.

 She’s going to follow in _his_ footsteps. Not the Illusive Man’s. Legion’s.

 If Garrus is alive, he’ll be alright. He has his family, safe and sound. He’ll have whatever job he wants or if he wants to sit on the beach for a good, long, time, no one will deny him that, either. Liara will be fine; whatever the galaxy looks like after this, there will always be need of a Shadow Broker. Besides, she’ll be telling the story of this nightmare. Wrex is gonna have a kid soon, damn. Kaidan’s gonna...well hell, she’s not sure what Kaidan’s gonna do. He’ll figure something out. He’ll do something good. Joker and EDI will keep being strange. Hackett will be moving troops to rebuild soon, to dig through the rubble and put brave soldiers to rest.

 It’ll all be alright. She just won’t be around for it. It’s up to her to make sure that all has the chance to happen. She is their catalyst. Funny how that works.

 Whatever the mechanism is, it wants her hands. The power that will take her and turn her into something useful glows blue. It looks like it’s going to hurt a lot before she goes but shit, it hurts a lot now.

 “I really wanted to punch a Reaper in the goddamn face today. I really did,” she says with a wet cough, wincing at a sharp, new pain in her side. “And I wanted to have a drink with James in Rio. Wanted...to help Tali build her house...” She squeezes her eyes shut but the tears still come. “God damn it. God _damn it_.” She bends forward and shudders, finally setting the gun down (who the fuck was she planning on shooting?) and wiping her bruised face. She cries because she has earned that, at least. No need to be shamed. “Oh, god. Why couldn’t I just punch a Reaper in the goddamn face?”

_Because you figured this was the end, anyway. You knew it. Yeah you wanted things, but you’ve been coasting by for a while, now. This is the last mission, Zis. You’ve said your goodbyes. You can’t kill the geth, you can’t kill EDI, and you can’t leave babygirl alone._

_So let's do the damn thing. This is why you’re here._

When it’s all said and done, Zisys is motivated by duty. It’s why she left earth for the Alliance Navy in the first place. She wanted to serve something bigger than the streets her gang claimed, bigger than the wayward direction of her desires. She has made a home in the stars, has saved races, planets, histories. Now she has to safeguard them. Her duty is to save the galaxy, first and foremost, to find a way to keep it intact and better, god willing, than she leaves it. She is duty bound, not necessarily to destroy the Reapers but to save the galaxy and all who have come together to help her get to this very point. If she can help it, only a handful more people die today. Not a race. Not another planet’s worth.

She thinks about Torfan for the first time in a while, about the choices she made then, and how she hasn’t changed all that much, but for a few small tweaks. Her legacy will be a bit different, the end of the story a bit brighter. Legacy, legacy...

_Come on, Z. Let’s go. People are dying. Just do it. It’ll be over soon._

She grabs hold of the handles, glowing that bright blue with unknown energy, and immediately her eyes roll back into her head from the pain. Overwhelming, burning, burning... her body is burning but she can still think: It hurts, it _hurts_ , but also, an expansion. Like she is being pulled over the expanse of the galaxy, stretched like a tarp against the elements: a protection for the stars beneath her canopy and a promise until the end of time that the Reapers will never come to destroy again.

She screams but it’s a weak scream, her voice half-gone and the pain too much for whatever sound she can muster. Mouth open, wheezing breath coming out. Her tears turn to steam.

As she goes, Zisys first sees blue. Then, she sees the stars. No planets, just the vast black of space peppered with stars and it doesn’t feel like it’ll be alright, but she knows that it will. That she has made a good choice and has done good.

It’ll be alright.

 

_It’ll be alright._

 

_**_

Garrus spends four months with his family, helping out on Palaven and hardly sleeping. By the fourth month, he’s gotten used to walking around without armor and he still doesn’t like it. Primarch Victus wants him to do politics. Maybe he will, but they’ll be waiting a while. He needs a while longer, and Zisys would say that he’s owed all of the time in the world.

_“You been saving the world right along with me, boy, they better not ask you for shit before your time,” she’d said. They were in her bed, naked, half a bottle of species-safe alcohol gone, after-glow bright. She was rosy-cheeked and agreeable, playing with his hands and smiling more than she often did. He must have done better than usual, which made him feel good. Not that he was bad at it, obviously. He was damned good. But still._

_“I’m gonna say it to them just like that. You better not ask me for shit before my time.”_

_“You better fucking do it, too,” she’d laughed, climbing on top of him._

_“I will! You’ll be my witness. You need to see Palaven **not** in flames, anyway.” He reached for her hair, tangling his fingers in it and fondling her breasts at the same time. Convenient, the long hair._

_“Taking me home, huh.”_

_“Hell yes I’m taking you home. You objecting?”_

_“Nah,” she shook her head and wiggled playfully over his groin, snickered when he gave a strained moan. Turians had more endurance, but human rebound time was ridiculous. “I’ll follow you home, Garrus. And after, we’ll find a beach. They got beaches on Palaven?”_

Spirits, it hurts to remember. Garrus hadn’t lied to her; the universe feels frighteningly empty without her here. He half expects her, still, to call him up in her powerful voice, poking fun in the rough way she does with the smile she rarely gives anyone, but seems fine with flashing him more and more.

He misses the smell of her hair and the demand of her presence.

He wanted to be angry at first. He’d asked her to come back alive, he’d begged her. She’d done the impossible so many times in the last four years that survival didn’t seem like a lot to ask of her, even in the wake of galaxy-wide destruction. Go ahead, go save the galaxy but damn it, _come back_. Don’t slip through my fingers again; I want to hold you and claim you and keep you safe, finally, because you’ve done enough. More than enough; let me do the rest.

But she is gone. They hadn’t found her body but that didn’t mean anything. Garrus hung around earth for weeks, waiting for someone to drag her little frame out of some rubble, impossibly breathing, challenging death again because now, hell, it was _routine_. Commander Shepard, who refused to die.

She never fucking showed up, so he had to put her plaque above Admiral Anderson’s. Anderson had never shown up either, and that’s what made Garrus accept it. Two of the toughest humans that he would ever be privileged to know, disappeared. They’d saved the world, and they were gone because of it. It was a relief, at least, that Anderson was with her somehow.

Garrus often puts his hand over the dog-tags around his neck. James had gotten two made; one for Zisys, and one for sharper-than-sharp Tali’Zorah. They’d found Tali’s body, what was left of it. Garrus remembers her screaming when they ran for the beam. He remembers finding her next to him when he woke up amid blood and smoke, debris and body parts.

He remembers seeing a small figure far ahead of him that he knew was Zisys. He knew it. But he’d broken both his legs and could only watch her disappear into the light. Maybe he’d known then. What is certain is that he knows now.

It hasn’t stopped hurting yet.

His family is happy to see him, and they know to let him mourn. The galaxy feels vast again, liable to swallow him whole. Archangel no more, he thinks he prefers solid ground to the potential of space, but that could be the grief talking.

“I miss you,” he says, aloud and to no one, when three months turn into four and people begin asking things of him. Primarch Victus wants him in his corner, Admiral Hackett has sent a message about what, Garrus can only imagine, James has revived the invitation to Rio, Liara simply wants to know how he is. He realizes he’s waiting for Tali to talk some sense into him. It makes him sick. It’s too much.

His father asks him once what he thinks he might do and Garrus tries hard not to balk. Palaven is coming back, better than ever, and Garrus’s body is sore from physical work. He’d helped build his home back, and wasn’t that enough? Does he need to do anything just yet? Hasn’t he done and given enough?

His father doesn’t ask again.

Four months turn into five. The galaxy re-calibrates as best it can. He hears something about the Asari making strides after near-extinction, but he hardly listens to news. The universe is saved. No one wants to fight. He’s content with that for now.

“No dinner?” His sister asks one night, sometime before the five months turn into six. Soon, Solana will move into her own place again, begin her work anew. Re-start.

Garrus is more tired than usual; he’d spent the day listening to the Primarch try to convince him once more and had left the poor man- he was doing a great job, really- frustrated with another non-answer. _We’ll see. Give it a week, Primarch._

“No,” Garrus says, sliding into bed. His chest hurts, and he wants to sleep. “Good night.”

Solana stands in the doorway and watches him. Garrus looks back, because she doesn’t deserve his chilliness but spirits, she can’t make him talk. He doesn’t know how to put this into words.

“‘Night, Sol,” he says, softer, almost pleading.

“We’re all glad you’re here, Garrus,” she replies, sighing. “Glad that you’re here, and alive. Keep that in mind. Good night.”

She closes the door and he turns over.

Yes, he’s here. And he’s alive. He just...wishes that it was enough. After everything he’s seen, and everything he’s done, it sure as hell doesn’t feel like enough.

He falls asleep with a tight jaw, tense, liable to wake up in more pain than he’d slept with.

 

*

 

_Hey._

Garrus opens his eyes and looks into hers, startled for the moment before he is soothed by her smell, by the tickle of her hair and the warmth of her body lain atop his, her hands stroking his mandibles. His arms reflexively wrap around her waist, holding her tight.

_What is this?_ Already he has tears in his eyes, because he knows it isn’t real. It’s a dream, has to be,  and he’s going to wake up empty and alone and have to press on with his life. But now, he presses his forehead against hers.

_A dream, sort of. It’s hard to explain what happened_. Zisys looks into his eyes, and grins. _But I’m here. Sort of. I’m all over the place, it seems._

_You’re dead, Zisys._ He doesn’t need to confusion, she’s gone. He’s spent the last five months trying to grapple with that very fact. _You died, Z._

_Well yeah. My body’s shot. But I’m....around, in other ways. That’s the deal. This is how I win. How we all win. How the Reapers will never be a threat again, and will never allow a threat again. How to break the cycle._

_What...?_ Garrus frowns, shuddering when she wipes away his tears. She’s so gentle, soft in a way he didn’t think she could have been in life. The kind of gentleness that comes with a gentle life, so he wonders how death is treating her.

_Don’t worry bout it, baby. I came to say goodbye. Proper. Liara told me you’ve been having a hard time._

_You talked to Liara?_

She nods, pressing her mouth softly to his. _Turns out Asari are pretty in tune to... whatever this is. That, and I’ve been linked to her consciousness what, three times? She was easy to find. You, however, were a pain in the ass to find. Probably because you don’t like to dream._

She talks like she’s making sense, but it doesn’t make sense to Garrus. He holds her tighter, because she said she’s come to say goodbye and that makes sense.

_I miss you so much, Zisys._

Her eyes are sad. _I miss you too, Garrus. I’m sorry I didn’t come back. I’m really fucking sorry. I wanted all we talked about. The beach, the kid, the retirement... I was so tired, I wanted to rest with you for a good, long while. Maybe not forever; the fight’s in our damn bones, you know. Can’t get rid of it._

Garrus chuckles, sniffing. She feels so real in his arms, but he’s not delusional, even if he’s having this dream. _I don’t know. I feel pretty done._

Zisys shakes her head. _Fuck that. I expect you’ll be like Anderson or Hackett. Old, grumpy, and badass with it till the end. You just need a break. Take your break, then get off your ass, Vakarian. Do that for me, but do it for your own damn self._ She props herself up on her elbows, digging them into his chest plate. Her hair falls over her face in red sheets, bright even in the dark. His dog tags press into her skin and she looks down at them; Garrus lifts them for her to see, and squeezes his eyes shut at the sad sound she makes as she reads them. _Damn it, Garrus..._

_James made them._

_James is a good man. And Tali is alright. She says hi. She’s at the bar. Once I’m done here, I’m going back to make sure she doesn’t jam her straw anywhere it doesn’t need to be. ‘Emergency Induction Port,’ my ass._

They both laugh, and it is bittersweet.

_I don’t want you to go away,_ Garrus says, running his hands along her back. One of his favorite body parts of hers is her back; strong, the muscles prominent. The way she moved on top of him, the way she’d roll her shoulders into his touch. All of that had been progress between them. Now, he strokes the the small of her back where he expects, even in this dream-ghost state, her old tattoo with her old name- Makiya -still sits.

Zisys combs a hand through her hair and shakes her head. _I have to. The way it works....bits of me will stay, but not the bits of me that will make any sense to you. I keep the Reapers now. Think about what Legion did for the geth.  And this bit of me here with you now...it belongs at the bar. I can’t leave Tali alone, not after she followed me all this way. Gotta watch out for my baby girl._

_And save a seat for me._ Garrus’s throat gets tight, but he remembers their talk before everything went to shit. Whoever went first would keep the a seat, keep the drinks ready for the other.

_Damn right, but I better not see you any time soon._ Her dream-voice goes hard, like her beautiful face. _Or you’ll make it to the bar just to get your ass kicked by your dead girlfriend._

_Fuck,_ He chokes on a sob and a laugh, slapping his hand over his eyes. _Fuck, Z._

_Hey._ She pulls his hand away _roughly_ , pushing off of his chest so she towers above him, every bit the Commander he loves. _You better get off your narrow behind and keep fighting. I don’t love a quitter. I wasn’t supposed to love at all. Jackass._

_I love you, too._ He grins despite his tears, and they slip acrid into his mouth.   _I love you so much._ She has his hands pinned so he can’t hide behind them while he cries. But damn it, he cries. And she watches him, sad and quiet, until he can catch his breath.

_I told you that you’d never be alone, didn’t I?_

_Yeah._

_Do I lie?_

_No._

_Okay then. Believe me like you always have._ She bends back down, and kisses him slowly, deeply, so he feels it from his fingertips to his toes. _I have to go._

**_No._** Garrus panics, grasping at her. _Please._

_Gonna do it anyway. I won’t be back._ She tucks her hair behind her ear. _You don’t need me to come back, though. You just needed this. And I...I needed this. To hold me over. I’ll see you again, Garrus Vakarian. I love you and I swear to god, on my soul and on this galaxy, I’m not done with you. But you’re not done with you, either. Go do it big for me and Tali. We’ll be watching._

_Zisys..._ Garrus wants to plead, plead and plead and plead. But he knows better, down deep. He knows the dream has to end. He has to wake up. ... _Damn it. Don’t let Tali drink all the good stuff._

_‘Course not._

_Then...then I guess I’ll have to give you ladies a show._

She smiles brilliantly, and it’s moon-bright even though she seems to have faded, somehow. Garrus knows that they’re done. The dream’s done.   _Now, **that’s** what I’m talking about_. _That’s my Archangel._

She’s generous- or the dream is, though he’s not sure now if there is a difference between the two- because he wakes up immediately. No more warmth, or weight, or the heat of her, her hands on his face. Just himself, in his bed, looking up at the dark ceiling of his room. He turns his head to look out the window instead. Nothing but stars.

She had been here. It wasn’t just a dream. Garrus feels the fading pressure of her hands gripping his wrists, the taste of her in his mouth. Salty tears that were hers, because his aren’t salty. She had been here.

His face is wet with his own tears but he’s done crying. He lays in bed and thinks. The universe is open to him, threaded with her and all that she’d done to give it a fighting chance. He thinks about Liara, helping give the asari new life. He thinks about the quarians and the geth, writing new histories on Rannoch. He thinks of the krogan, of Wrex and the future he and Eve will build. He thinks of humans, pressing on as they’ve always done. Always so big, even when they were barely five feet tall.

He thinks of his own people, and the lessons he had grown on, that were embedded in him, that had kept him going when all he had was himself. The two years after Saren. Becoming Archangel. He thinks until the sun rises, and then goes to join his family in the daylight.

Before six months turns to seven, he’s among the stars again. He has given Primarch Victus an answer that satisfies them both. He gets a ship out of it.

He doesn’t know where he’ll end up, but he’ll figure something out. And maybe, wherever or whatever Zisys has become, will echo back to him somehow, someway. And if not, well, it’ll still be alright.

It’ll be alright.


End file.
